


Won't You Come Out to Play (and i don't care what people say)

by heartshapedcandy



Series: Clarke and Lexa College AU [3]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-26
Updated: 2015-02-26
Packaged: 2018-03-15 09:19:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,016
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3441794
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/heartshapedcandy/pseuds/heartshapedcandy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Five times that Clarke and Lexa come out (and one time they don’t have to) </p>
<p>or</p>
<p>the college AU continued</p>
            </blockquote>





	Won't You Come Out to Play (and i don't care what people say)

**Author's Note:**

> I am still in a haze after that episode so I figured I should post this in celebration of canon bisexual Clarke Griffin and canon lovesick Lexa.

1.

Clarke doesn’t sit at the back. 

 

She has sat in a middle row for her first two weeks of the new semester.  She takes notes, she only doodles in the margins of her textbook on occasion, and her entire being feels lighter.  The dread hasn’t entirely dissipated, but it no longer settles deep in her stomach every time she looks at her textbooks. 

 

Switching majors was a really good choice, she thinks as she glances down at her sketchbook, a really really good choice. 

 

Her sketch of Lexa she did for her homework is open on her desk and she smiles when she looks at it, running a finger down the edge of the drawing, careful not to smudge the charcoal. 

 

She drew it two nights ago, an assignment for her _Drawing the Figure: Observation to Expression_ class.

 

Lexa hadn’t even realized that she was drawing her at first.  She lay on her stomach on Clarke’s bed, feet crossed in the air behind her.  She was reading a book absently, and every few pages she would glance up at Clarke as though to check she was there.  Every time she would look up to find Clarke staring at her, she would raise her eyebrows in this entirely unaffected way.  But every time Lexa would look away, pretending to turn her attention back to her book, she would smile down at the page, giddy and pleased at Clarke’s attention. 

 

Clarke didn’t draw Lexa’s smile, but she thought you could see it in the way Lexa was looking at her in the picture, deep and careful and hopeful.  

 

Clarke glances toward the front of the classroom, her professor still hasn’t arrived and she kind of just wants to go back to her dorm.  When she had left Lexa was still asleep, face hidden by a tangle of brown curls, her body pliant and sleep soft.  She had mumbled when Clarke got up, a slew of gibberish that had made Clarke laugh and consider skipping class just to curl up with her for longer. 

 

But ditching class wouldn’t really be a great start to the semester, although apparently her Professor doesn’t have the same concerns. 

“He’s late again?” a boy asks, working his way down the aisle and throwing his stuff at the desk next to her, “that’s like three out of four classes, must be some kind of record.”

 

Clarke smiles at him, moving her backpack to other side to make room.  “You were cutting it kind of close, too,” she says looking over at him as he settles at his desk.  Clarke doesn’t really know him, they just tend to sit next at each other, make polite small talk.  It’s almost a relief to have someone to talk to, the rest of the students seem to have already found their group within their classes and Clarke doesn’t like the idea of having no one to study with when things pick up. 

 

“The difference is,” he says with a grin, “I’m not teaching the class, I feel like that gives me a little more freedom.” He leans toward her as he struggles to get his sketchbook out of his bag and his eyes fall on her desk.  “Whoa,” he says, taking in her drawing, “that’s really good.”

 

She looks down, almost moving to cover it.  Having people look at her work is still incredibly foreign.  “Thanks,” she says, “It was a fun assignment.”

 

“Yeah,” he agrees, leaning closer, “She is really pretty.  Who is that? Your roommate?”

 

Clarke hesitates, her stomach flips a little bit and she smiles when she answers, “Uh, she’s my girlfriend actually.” 

 

He looks back down at her paper and then back up at her, his eyes widen a bit but then he grins, “She looks really cool,” he says.

 

Clarke laughs and thinks about Lexa when she saw that Clarke was drawing her.  She had gotten all quiet and soft, peppering kisses all over Clarke’s face and neck until Clarke had smeared a line of charcoal down Lexa’s cheek, squealing as Lexa moved to retaliate. 

 

“She really isn’t,” Clarke tells him, the image of Lexa solemnly staring at her with smudges of charcoal around her eyes vivid in her mind, “she is kind of a huge dork.”

* * *

 

 

Clarke goes straight to Lexa’s room after class, dumping her bag inside the door.  Lexa is still asleep, comforter kicked off in a tangle at the bottom of the bed.  Her t-shirt has slipped up her back and her legs skew to the side.  Since Clarke left, Lexa has rolled to the space that Clarke previously occupied, hands clutching at the pillow. 

 

Clarke approaches the bed slowly, kicking off her shoes on the way.  She leans down to brush Lexa’s hair out of her eyes.  Lexa stirs, moving her grip from the pillow to fasten on Clarke’s shirt. 

 

“Clarke,” she says.  Clarke waits for more, but that is all that Lexa is apparently planning on saying.

 

She leans down and folds herself in next to her, nudging their foreheads together and wrapping an arm around her bare back.  “How late were you out with friends last night, Lexa? It’s like 11:00 and you are still sleeping.”

 

Lexa pushes further into her, eyes still closed.  Her hands start to move, pressing flat against Clarke’s stomach. 

 

“Lexa,” Clarke says pinching her back lightly, “you have to speak. Use your words.”

 

“You smell nice,” Lexa mumbles. 

 

Clarke rolls her eyes, “That’s not what I had in mind,” she says, then after a beat, “are you wearing my shirt?” 

 

Lexa shrugs, fitting her hips against Clarke, “You smell nice,” she says again. 

 

Clarke huffs but moves to kiss the tip of Lexa’s nose, “I told a boy in my art class that you were a dork, and I can see now that I was definitely not wrong.”

 

Lexa wrinkles her nose, “A boy?” she asks, eyes still closed. 

 

Clarke smiles against Lexa’s cheek.  “Yes, a boy.  I told him we are dating though.  It was the first time I actually told anyone.” 

 

Lexa opens her eyes, and Clarke’s heart plummets.  She thinks she had almost forgotten, in the time they had been closed, what they looked like.  And more importantly, the way they look at her.  Penetrating and focused, like she is all they can see. 

 

“Good,” Lexa says, and then she is falling back asleep and Clarke figures that she might sleep too, just for a little while. 

 

2\.  

 “She is already dating you, I don’t see why you are making me do this,” Raven is trying to sound upset, but the smile that tugs at the corner of her mouth gives her away. 

 

“Shut up,” Clarke says, fixing her gaze against the far wall and concentrating on not moving so Raven can finish applying her eyeliner, “just hurry up and finish me so I can do you.” 

 

Raven lets out a burst of laughter and pulls back to keep from stabbing Clarke in the eye, “you want to rephrase that, babe?”

 

Clarke feels her face flush and slaps at Raven’s arm.  “Shut up,” she whines again, “you know what I mean.  Plus,” and she narrows her eyes here, “I know you will want to look good when Octavia gets here.” 

Raven huffs and leans back in, “I remind you again,” she says, “how undeniably straight that girl is.  Anyway, back to what I was saying before you blatantly came on to me—” she pauses expectantly as Clarke smacks her arm again before continuing, “I don’t know why you are so worried about looking good. Lexa doesn’t care.  And honestly you always look amazing.”

 

Clarke wrinkles her nose at the compliment, and looks down.  “I know she doesn’t care, she just always looks so nice.  I want to get on her level.” 

 

Its Raven’s turn to roll her eyes, “Please, you are both so on each other’s level it’s gross.” She finishes with the eyeliner and hands it to Clarke, “Your turn.”

 

Octavia comes in the door then, glancing at the two of them and excitedly holding out her hand.  “Oh, let me do Raven, I’m so good at this.” 

 

Clarke and Raven burst out into peals of laughter that has Octavia furrowing her brow, “What?” she asks, “What?”

 

Lexa comes in then and Clarke looks at her, struggling to stop laughing.  Lexa shakes her head at the sight of her and crosses the room to sit next to Clarke, reaching a hand out to touch her flushed cheeks.  “What did I miss?” she asks. 

 

“Nothing that Raven hasn’t been hoping would happen forever,” her laughter is cut off when Raven throws a pillow at her. 

 

Octavia takes Raven’s chin in her hand, “Just sit still, you idiot,” she says snatching the eyeliner from Clarke, “I am electing on ignoring you two and just getting you ready for the party.”

 

Lexa turns to Clarke and looks at her intently.  “You look nice,” she says softly. 

 

Clarke smiles, and tugs at the collar of Lexa’s shirt, “So do you.”

 

Lexa leans a little closer, covering Clarke’s hand with her own, the play of Lexa’s fingers on her’s makes her breath hitch.  She would be embarrassed if Lexa wasn’t looking at her like she was so so bright.  Clarke leans in to give her a quick kiss but gets distracted by the warmth of Lexa’s lips and the way her hand moves to her leg. 

 

A violent cough interrupts them and they break apart to see Raven pulling a face at them.  “Could you guys, like, cool it down over there?” she gestures at Octavia, “We are trying to work here.”

 

“So that’s what we’re calling it now,” Clarke says and then laughs at Raven’s frown. 

 

Octavia stands up and brushes off her jeans, offering a hand to Raven and hauling her to her feet.  “Let’s go now,” she says grinning, “I have my eye on someone at this party.” 

 

Raven looks down at their linked hands and swallows as she pulls her hand away, “I think I’m just going to get wasted and not think about boys or girls,” she groans, “or my engineering lab report that is due tomorrow.”

 

Octavia nods in agreement and swings open the dorm room door, holding it for Raven to pass through.  She gestures at Clarke and Lexa, “Are you guys looking forward to a night of drunken fun?”

 

Clarke shakes her head, “I think I’m going to avoid that level of crazy, just hang out.  Maybe dance.”

 

Lexa nods in agreement as they head out the door.  Octavia stops her with a hand on her arm.  “Lexa? You have a little lipstick…”

 

Clarke grins as she turns Lexa’s face toward her, surveying the lip print stamped on Lexa’s cheek. “My bad,” she says reaching up to wipe it away, “I couldn’t help myself.”

 

Lexa smiles that smile, and pushes them out the door, linking their hands as they walk. 

 

“Do I have any more drunken confessions to be looking forward to from you tonight?” Clarke asks her.

 

Lexa scoffs, “I don’t think so,” she says, “I’ve already told you everything that matters.”  She misses seeing Clarke’s smile when she turns away.

 

* * *

 

 

Clarke leans against the wall and sips on her beer. Lexa went to get a beer like ten minutes ago, and Clarke is starting to feel a little abandoned. 

 

She glances around for her friends, but Raven disappeared as soon as they got here and Octavia is talking to the huge man she had been making out with the first time she walked on Lexa and Clarke.  Clarke watches, slightly impressed, as Octavia leans in placing a hand on his arm.  He is completely enamored and follows her every movement, dutifully. 

 

Clarke can see Bellamy doing shots at a table with some of his frat friends.  He had gestured for her to join them when he saw her earlier, but she really wanted to avoid getting anywhere passed tipsy tonight. 

 

She sighs and pulls a face at her cup, Bellamy and his friends really do buy the cheapest shit. 

 

A voice interrupts her thoughts, “You look lonely.”

 

Clarke looks up to see a boy smirking at her.  He stands just a little too close, and has a hand tucked in his pocket, the other propping him against the wall.  Clarke immediately regrets bemoaning her loneliness ten seconds before; she forgot that having no one to talk to was always better than talking to someone you probably didn’t want to get to know. 

 

 “No,” she says with a tight smile, “I’m just waiting for a friend.” 

 

“A boyfriend?” he asks his smirk wavering.

 

“No actually,” Clarke says jumping on her chance to get him to leave her alone, “It’s actually my gi—”

 

He cuts her off as soon as he hears the ‘no,’ smirk returning.  He is drunk and overconfident, already leaning closer. 

 

“Look,” she says, expression hardening, “I’m really not interested.”

 

He takes a step back with a faux hurtful expression, “I wasn’t trying anything, dude. You just looked like you needed someone to keep you company.  I was just being nice.”

 

He holds up his hands mockingly and Clarke starts thinking the best move at this point might be to punch him in the face.  She is considering the merits of aiming for the stomach or the face when she feels an arm wrap around her waist. 

 

“How are you, Clarke?” Lexa says, stroking a hand over her hip. 

 

Clarke looks back at the boy whose face fallen completely, he has taken another step back. 

 

“I’m good,” Clarke says turning back to face Lexa.  She purses her lips and Lexa leans in, kissing her hard on the mouth, softening as she pulls back with a peck on the lips. 

 

Lexa looks at the boy, eyes half-lidded and one eyebrow raised.  “You can go,” she says.  He turns awkwardly, face red, and stumbles away. 

 

Clarke laughs as soon as he turns the corner, setting down her beer so she can loop her arms around Lexa’s neck.  “He was scared of you,” she says, moving closer until their stomachs and hips press together, “What kind of bad ass reputation do you have that I don’t know about?”

 

Lexa smirks, and it is delightfully different from the boy’s, it makes Clarke’s heart flutter as she laces her arms more securely around Lexa’s neck.  “That’s for me to know and you to find out,” Lexa murmurs and then she is kissing her again, eliminating any space between them. 

 

If Clarke was slightly tipsy from her beer before, now her head is reeling as Lexa licks her way into her mouth, hands holding her hips firmly, fingers tracing just below the waistband of her jeans.  Lexa bites down on her lip, sucking it into her mouth and drawing a moan from Clarke. 

 

Clarke pulls back, breathing hard and light headed, “Upstairs?” she asks.

 

Lexa is grinning at that for reasons that Clarke can’t quite remember, and her pupils are large and dark as she nods her consent.  She leads Clarke hurriedly toward the stairs.  They pass Bellamy who pauses from beer pong to yell, “My room is the first one on the third floor, ladies,” with a wink at Clarke. 

 

Clarke flicks him off and Lexa levels a glare at him that has him retreating back to his game.  Clarke starts laughing halfway up the first flight, tugging her fingers at the hem of Lexa’s shirt and leaning forward to bite at her neck.  “It’s not the worst option,” she says, kissing the mark she left, and Lexa is just desperate enough to agree, pulling Clarke up the next flight. 

 

They push into Bellamy’s room all in a flurry.  And Clarke strips off her shirt as soon as the door closes, falling backwards on Bellamy’s bed.  She pauses then and scrunches her nose, “The bed smells like Bellamy,” she says, pushing up on her forearms. 

 

Lexa walks toward her, eyeing Clarke carefully, “Then we might just have to bypass the bed,” she says pulling Clarke to her feet.  She spins Clarke and backs her up against the door, hands pushing up under Clarke’s bra while she lowers her lips to her mouth, kissing her sloppy and hungry.  Her fingers toy with Clarke’s nipple as her mouth moves to Clarke’s neck, drawing a whine from Clarke as she sucks kisses against the sensitive skin. 

 

 Clarke is moving fumbling hands to the clasp of Lexa’s jeans, but Lexa stops her.  “Let me take care of you,” she says low and careful, and she is undoing the button of Clarke’s pants and dropping to her knees.  Clarke looks down at her, and moves to smooth Lexa’s hair out of her face, Lexa turns her head to press a kiss into the palm of Clarke’s hand. 

 

“Okay,” Clarke says, and Lexa smiles. 

 

 3.   

“Stop pouting.”

 

“I’m not pouting,” Lexa says, glaring at Clarke and shuffling forward a little bit in line. 

 

“Then why is your face all scrunchy?”

 

“My face is normal, Clarke.”

 

Clarke reaches a hand up to tug at Lexa’s hair, “I can’t believe you are this upset that I insisted we go out for once.” 

 

Lexa ignores her and moves up to the glass window.  Clarke stands back in favor of watching Lexa talk to the man over the counter.  Lexa leans her elbows onto the counter as she talks, body lean and long.  Clarke admires the cut of her dress and the arch of her leg before Lexa turns back to give her a look as the man fumbles to get the papers slips out of the sputtering machine. 

 

Lexa turns back to take the tickets with a clipped “Thank you,” and a polite nod.  Clarke shuffles forward to catch up with her, hooking her arm through Lexa’s crooked elbow and falling into step beside her. Lexa hands her a ticket and pulls her a little closer to her side.

 

“Were you checking me out?” she asks Clarke, mouth quirked and eyes bright. 

 

“No,” Clarke says immediately, and then looking back down at Lexa she sighs and huffs “Well, can you blame me?”

 

Lexa looks away, studying the floor of the theater’s lobby, and Clarke smiles because it means Lexa is flustered, which is always fun. 

 

“Do you want popcorn?” Lexa asks, looking from the floor to the concession counter, eager to change the subject. 

 

“Let’s not fulfill every date cliché in one night,” Clarke says.  She tugs at her purse and grins, “I snuck in sour patch kids, anyway.”

 

Lexa glances at her and smirks, “You know all my friends tease me for dating such a good girl, but wait until I tell them about what a rebel you are.” she pokes at Clarke’s side, “The truth comes out.”

 

Clarke pulls a face at her, “Your friends tease you about me?” A beat. “And you think I’m a ‘good girl?’”

 

Lexa looks over and her face falls, “I didn’t mean to offend you, Clarke.  You are just—very—” she trails off and Clarke unhooks their arms, taking a step back.

 

“I am eager to see how you choose to finish that sentence,” Clarke says, raising an eyebrow. 

 

Lexa looks slightly stricken and looks at Clarke’s face, “uuh…clean?”

 

“I’m very clean? What do your friends not bathe?”

 

Lexa reaches tugs at the hem of Clarke’s sweater and steps closer, “No you are just very good.  Like, a pure soul.” 

Clarke struggles to maintain her affronted expression and instead rolls her eyes, letting Lexa tug her closer.  “I think you need to introduce me to your friends,” she says tugging Lexa toward theatre 7. 

 

Lexa hands her ticket to the man at the door and accepts the ticket stub with a quiet “thanks,” before turning back to Clarke.  “But I like your friends,” she says as they walk into the dim light of the theater. 

 

Clarke links their hands, “Octavia and Raven and Bellamy are your friends now, too.  You know that right?”

 

Lexa’s face gets this soft, breathless look and she just nods, squeezing Clarke’s hand as they work their way toward the back of the movie theater. 

 

Clarke lets her pull her down into a seat in the back row, accepting the kiss Lexa presses to her cheek with a grateful hum.  Lexa’s eyes dart to her mouth and Clarke holds up a hand, “You did not just spend 20 dollars on movie tickets for us to make out the whole movie, okay?”

 

Lexa pokes out her lip and Clarke laughs.  “You’re pouting again, Lex.”

 

“I’m not pouting,” Lexa says reflexively, jutting out her lip further when Clarke laughs again. 

 

Twenty minutes later, Lexa is slumped down in her seat, legs kicked up on the chair in front of her.  She isn’t even concentrating on the movie anymore, just playing with Clarke’s fingers and sneaking glances at her out of the corner of her eye. 

 

Clarke turns her head from the screen and reaches into her purse that is slung over the back of her seat.  She holds out a sour patch kid to Lexa who, instead of letting go of Clarke’s other hand to take it, just opens her mouth.  Clarke shifts closer and feeds Lexa the candy, ignoring the way that Lexa licks at her fingers to get all the sugar. 

 

“Are you even watching the movie?” Clarke whispers, pulling her hand back. 

 

Lexa nods energetically and opens her mouth for another piece of candy.  Clarke kisses her instead, slinking lower in her seat to reach Lexa’s mouth, smiling against Lexa at her happy little sigh. 

 

Lexa’s mouth is warm and she tastes like sugar, she kisses her back hungrily.  Clarke pulls away before things can escalate, “Now watch the movie,” she says gesturing at the screen.  She turns forward, ignoring Lexa’s completely affronted face. 

 

Lexa scoffs and contorts her body so she can lean her head on Clarke’s shoulder.  Clarke leans her head on top of Lexa’s and nuzzles into her hair as she watches the screen. 

 

“Stop looking at me,” Clarke says out of the corner of her mouth, eyes still trained ahead. 

 

“Don’t flatter yourself, Clarke,” Lexa says but Clarke can still feel her watching her.  She reaches out a hand to stroke across Lexa’s knee and they watch the rest of the movie in silence. 

* * *

They exit the theater doors into bright sunlight, Clarke blinks rapidly to clear her eyes and asks Lexa “How did you like the movie?”

 

Lexa shrugs, face blank as she turns to Clarke, “It was predictable.” 

 

Clarke laughs and bumps Lexa’s shoulder with her own, “You are such a grump.  I’m sorry I refused to make out with you in the back of a movie theater like a lovesick puppy, I didn’t mean to bruise your fragile ego.”

 

Lexa stills and turns to Clarke, her face thoughtful and her eyes dark, “lovesick?” she says.

 

Clarke can feel her face heat and turns away, “You know what I mean.”

 

“So you are lovesick?” Lexa says, the corner of her mouth twitching into a smile. 

 

Clarke punches at her shoulder and avoids eye contact, “Lexa,” she whines, “Leave me alone.”

 

Her protests are interrupted by a voice yelling “Excuse me Miss! Miss!” Lexa spins and sees a woman in the red vest that marks an employee of the movie theater running after them.  She catches up to them, slightly out of breath and panting, “You forgot your purse,” she holds the item out for Lexa to take. 

 

Lexa takes it and they stand awkwardly for a second, the woman still trying to catch her breath and Lexa holding the purse out to Clarke.  “Thank you,” Lexa says, turning back to the woman, “my girlfriend’s car keys are in there, so we would have really been screwed.”

 

The woman straightens suddenly, “Girlfriend?” she asks, voice disbelieving, “You’re gay?” Her face immediately flushes and her eyes widen when she realizes what she said, “I’m so sorry,” she stutters out, “that was incredibly out of line, oh my God.”

 

Lexa surveys her coolly, “It’s fine,” she turns back to Clarke throwing a “thanks again” over her shoulder as they begin to walk away. 

 

Clarke is trying to hold back a laugh as she snags her purse from Lexa’s hand.  “Did you see her face?” she asks clutching a hand to her chest, “I don’t think she had ever seen a lesbian before.”

 

Lexa continues to walk toward the car. “She did sound surprised, I can’t imagine why,” she smirks, “you were all over me in there.”

 

Clarke rolls her eyes, “You wish, Ms. Clingy.” She looks back at Lexa, “Maybe we need to make you look gayer so everyone knows we are dating.”

 

Lexa reaches out to tug at Clarke’s shirt, “Why don’t we make _you_ look gayer?”

 

Clarke pulls away and smiles over at her, “I’m bisexual,” she says, “the same stereotypes don’t apply.”  Clarke runs her hand through Lexa’s hair affectionately, “I’m gonna say we avoid any sort of pixie cut, I like your long hair.”

 

“There is nothing funny about being facetious, Clarke,” she says.  “Stereotyping can be hurtful.”

 

“I know,” Clarke says turning serious.  She regards Lexa thoughtfully, “Maybe some more plaid though…”

 

Lexa huffs out a laugh despite herself.  “I did used to wear a lot of plaid,” she admits, “In high school.  That’s when I got all my ear piercing, too.”

 

Clarke strokes along the shell of Lexa’s ear as they reach her car, they lean across the door, not getting in yet. “I like your piercings,” she says and then “you must have been the cutest little baby gay.”

 

Lexa pulls a face, “I was never a ‘baby gay.’”

 

“You totally were,” Clarke says, “there is no denying it.  Every gay starts out a baby gay.” She leans in to kiss Lexa and then pulls back “complete with plaid,” she pecks her on the lips “excessive piercings,” she kisses her again “and a crush on your best friend.” 

 

Lexa is smiling and leans in for another kiss, full on grinning against Clarke’s mouth when she gets it.  She pinches at Clarke’s sides until she squeals, pushing her further against the car as she kisses her again.  “I did have a crush on my best friend,” she says against Clarke’s mouth. 

 

Clarke pulls back slightly, leaning their foreheads together; her eyes are bright with interest.  “Really?” she asks.  Lexa almost never talks about her past or life before college and Clarke is eager for all the information she can get.

 

Lexa swallows but nods in affirmation. 

 

Clarke brushes their noses together, “What was her name?”

 

“Costia,” Lexa answers quietly, like saying the name too loud would be dangerous.  She heads off Clarke’s question before she can ask it, “It didn’t end well.”

 

She covers Clarke’s sympathetic words with her lips and opens her mouth against Clarke, urging her closer. 

 

“I think you are the only confirmation of my sexuality that I need to be giving people right now,” she says between kisses.  And then after a final press of their lips she pulls back, “now let’s get out of here, before we get banned from this movie theater for making out in the parking lot.”

 

Clarke’s bright laugh follows her into the car, and they hold hands over the gear shift all they way back to the dorms. 

 

4.

 

Clarke thought she knew how her night was going to go. 

 

She was going to get home from her Psych class, she was going to eat a dinner of ramen and half a pop-tart, and then she and Raven would study.  It was a Wednesday night ritual, the two of them sprawled out on their floor, quizzing each other and studying until they are so strung out they laugh at everything and fall asleep, more often than not, on top of their text books. 

 

She didn’t expect to hear voices coming from her room as she opened the door, and she certainly didn’t expect the voice to belong to her mother, who is perched on the edge of Clarke’s bed, saying something that has Raven doubled over with laughter. 

 

Raven looks up as she enters, grinning eager, “Clarke,” she says by way of greeting, “your mom is so funny.’

 

Clarke looks over at her mom, curling her hands around her stomach nervously eyes wide and confused, she takes a hesitant step forward.  “Mom? Is everything okay?  Why are you here?”

 

Abby crosses to her in a few short strides, pulling her into a hug and stroking the back of Clarke’s head as she holds her against her, “Oh, Clarke.  It’s so good to see you.” She pulls away and frames Clarke’s face with her hands, “everything’s fine,” she says, “I just missed you.”

 

Clarke stares at her, her hands hesitant as they move to wrap around her mom in return.  “Your not mad?” she asks, her voice is quieter than she would like, and she notices Raven quietly exiting the room, to give them some privacy. 

 

“I’m not mad,” her mom says.  She turns to back to Clarke’s desk where she has several pieces of her artwork pinned up, her mom studies them familiarly and Clarke absently wonders how long she has been here waiting for her.  Abby reaches out her hand to touch one of Clarke’s sketches, their old house in the spring.  Before they moved.  Before they lost her dad.  “It’s beautiful,” Abby hushes, still looking away from Clarke. 

 

Clarke swallows hard and moves closer, “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner.  I didn’t want to disappoint you.” 

 

Abby looks away from the drawing and focuses back on Clarke, “You couldn’t.  You didn’t,” she reaches out again to touch Clarke’s cheek, reminding herself that she is there.  “I just wish you had told me that you didn’t want to become a doctor, I would have understood.” 

 

Clarke can feel herself hardening again, “Would you have?” she says, angrier than she wants to, “Because I have about 18 years of my life as proof that you wouldn’t.” Abby takes a step back as Clarke continues, “You made it very clear to me what path you wanted me to follow.” 

 

“I never meant to pressure you,” Abby says, “I thought it was what you wanted.” 

 

Clarke clenches her hands tightly into a fist and reminds herself to take a deep breath, “I know,” she says. 

 

Abby glances back at the drawing and smiles softly, “Your dad would be so proud of you.”

 

“I know,” Clarke says again, quieter this time, her stomach lurching and her throat tightening, “Art makes me happy.”

 

“And he always wanted you to be happy,” her mom says, “and so do I.”  And then they are both stepping forward again, hugging tightly, and everything feels okay again for the first time in a long time.  And the dread that settles in Clarke’s stomach is almost entirely gone. 

 

* * *

 

 

Clarke thought she knew how her night was going to go, and it certainly wasn’t like this.  She is sprawled out on her floor with Raven, but her mom leans against the bed next to her, watching them with interest.  Every once in a while she chimes in to help them with their work, but she seems mostly content to just be near Clarke. 

 

“When are you going back home?” Clarke asks, looking up from her Calc to address her mom.

 

“Tonight,” Abby sighs, “I was near here for a medical conference and I hadn’t seen you since the holidays and….” She trails off and Clarke smiles at her. 

 

“I’m glad you came,” Clarke says and Raven grins at both of them. 

 

“This is so touching,” she starts, “The only thing I can think of that could break up this feel good fest is—” the door opens, and she raises an eyebrow, “speak of the devil,” she says. 

 

Clarke just about has a heart attack at the sight of Lexa standing in the doorway, she had honestly forgotten that telling her mom about Lexa was something she should probably do. 

 

Lexa hovers for a second, eyebrows knotted together in confusion, wearing just sleep shorts and a tank top.  For a second, Clarke forgets about her mom.  Her heart is too busy doing that annoying thing it does now whenever she sees Lexa, fluttering faster in her chest until she almost can’t breathe at the sight of her.  Lexa just looks so cute and disgruntled, and Clarke realizes with a flip of her stomach that Lexa was coming in here to sleep.  Even though Raven and her usually study for far later into the night, Lexa just wanted to be near her. 

 

She remembers where she is when Lexa blanks her face, like she does whenever she is unsure or thinks she needs to appear stronger, and takes another step into the room. 

 

“Lexa,” Clarke says, still a little breathless, rising to her feet and moving over to her.  She grabs her hand and tugs her the last few steps.  Abby is rising now, while Raven is staring down at her engineering textbook like it is the only thing that can save her from getting involved. 

 

“Um, Lexa this is my mom,” Clarke turns to Abby, still holding Lexa’s hand, “and mom, this is Lexa, my girlfriend.” 

 

There is a moment of silence, and Clarke is thinking there were probably a thousand better ways to go about this.  Abby still hasn’t said anything, but Lexa is sticking out her hand, looking ridiculously formal even in the shorts she borrowed from Clarke that are dotted with little blue elephants. 

 

“It’s nice to meet you, ma’am,” Lexa says. 

 

Abby seems to un-stall and offers up a smile, taking Lexa’s hand, “You as well, Lexa.”  Abby shoots a glare at Clarke before turning back to Lexa, “Sorry if I seem surprised, Clarke has…failed to mention anything about this to me before now.” 

 

“No time like the present,” Clarke says laughing nervously.  Lexa is attempting some sort of smile at Abby, Abby is probably undergoing some symptoms of shock, and Raven is staring at her textbook as she tries in vain not to laugh. 

 

Clarke sighs, and averts her eyes to the ceiling, wondering how long until it is socially appropriate for her to kick everyone out of her room so she can study in peace. 

 

* * *

 

 

“You should get some sleep, Clarke,” Lexa says.  She is burrowed underneath the comforter, arms behind her head, as she watches Clarke pace.  “Just come to bed, Clarke.  Everything with your mom went really well,” she pauses to consider the evening and amends “Okay, it went kind of well.”  She looks at Clarke again and turns to her side, propping her head on her arm. 

 

Clarke’s chest feels tight and burning, she is struggling to breathe and doesn’t want Lexa to see.  She stays facing away from her, listening as Lexa moves around more.  “I was happy to see my mom,” Clarke says, turning slightly.  She hopes that she is far enough away that Lexa can’t see the tears in her eyes, “I just—I just.”  She stops here and runs a hand through her hair.  She meets Lexa’s eyes and sees them watching her, urging her to keep talking, deep and trusting.  Loving. 

 

“I just really miss my dad,”  Clarke says, quieter and more broken then she means to, she brings a hand down to press against her chest, right above her heart, where it is beating so fast she thinks it might burst through. 

 

Lexa throws off the comforter in one motion, swinging her feet to the floor and padding over to Clarke.  She takes Clarke’s hand in her own and moves it, pressing it against her own chest.  Clarke can feel Lexa’s heart through the thin cotton of her sleep shirt, pounding strong and certain against her hand.  Lexa shuffles forward slightly, coaxing Clarke’s forehead against her own.  “I know,” she breathes, tilting her head down to drop a kiss on the tip of Clarke’s nose.  “You are allowed to miss him.”

 

Clarke gasps for breath, though her heart is calming to match the beat of Lexa’s own, “But I’m mad at her.  I’m mad at my mom.”

 

Lexa moves in closer against her, “And that is allowed, too,” she says.  “You can be mad at her even though she loves you,” she pauses, “even though you love her.” 

 

Clarke is nodding, and her breathing is slowing down.  The panic is subsiding some with the calm of Lexa’s touch.  Lexa nudges into her, pressing her lips softly against Clarke’s.  The kiss slow and chaste, Lexa’s brushes her mouth against Clarke, kissing her top lip and then her bottom.  Clarke’s hand finds its way to Lexa’s back and Lexa tangles her fingers in Clarke’s hair. 

 

“Come to bed,” she murmurs against Clarke’s mouth, and Clarke keeps nodding against her, pressing kisses to Lexa’s lips until Lexa returns them.  Lexa urges them toward the bed, sliding first under the comforter and holding it open for Clarke. 

 

Clarke slips into the spot where Lexa rested before, still warm from her body, smelling like Lexa’s shampoo and the heat of her skin. 

 

Lexa pulls Clarke against her, arms looping around her waist.  Clarke burrows into Lexa’s neck, draping her arm over Lexa’s waist. 

 

“Thank you for being so polite to my mom,” Clarke says against Lexa’s neck, lips grazing her skin as she talks.

 

Lexa makes a low noise of acknowledgment, focusing on settling into Clarke’s touch and the feel of her in her arms.  “You should be thanking me for not punching Raven in the face.”

 

Clarke’s laugh is the last thing she hears before she falls asleep.

 

 5.   

“That is way too much,” Clarke says laughing, “Are you trying to get yourself killed?”

 

Bellamy gives her his sidewise smile and flexes mockingly, “You should know by now that no amount is too much.”

 

Clarke shoves his arm out of her face, and moves behind the bench press bar, eyeing the weights skeptically.  “It’s not that I don’t have faith in you Bell, because believe me I do, but I’m not going to be much a spotter if I can’t support the amount of weight you’re doing.”

 

“Then I won’t drop it,” he says grinning again, cocky and lopsided.  He lowers himself down onto the bench, and reaches up for the bar.  He counts his reps under his breath as he lifts, and Clarke holds out a hand just in case while she surveys the rest of the room. 

 

Their university gym is impressive, and Clarke has made it a habit of going with Bellamy a few times a week.  He is a surprisingly less intense gym buddy then Octavia, and he is always up to run a few miles on the treadmills now that it is too cold to stay outside for long. 

 

Bellamy drops the bar back into the holder with a clang and sits up, breathing heavy. 

 

“Impressive,” Clarke says dryly, still looking around her. 

 

“Thanks, bud.” 

 

“Bud?” Clarke says a pulling a face, “maybe say that a little louder so everyone in here knows we aren’t together and that you are free to get laid.”

 

“That’s the idea,” he says laughing as he pulls up the hem of his shirt to wipe the sweat off his face. 

 

“By the way,” Clarke says leading the way to the dumbbell rack in the corner, “is Octavia still seeing that tall guy from your frat?”

 

Bellamy leans down to pick up a weight, handing it to Clarke before taking one for himself.  “You mean Lincoln?” he says, “He’s not in my fraternity, and I don’t know.”

He starts counting under his breath again before pausing to add, “I don’t really pay attention to my sister’s dating life.” 

 

Clarke hums thoughtfully while she does bicep curls to Bellamy’s count, he looks over at her curiously, “Why are you asking?”

 

“Just curious,” Clarke says hurriedly, “she seems like she really likes him.”

 

Bellamy nods before averting his eyes to the door of the weight room, he raises an eyebrow with a smile, “Hey Clarke, it’s your girl.”

 

Clarke turns to see Lexa pushing through the door next to a blonde girl that Clarke has seen around Lexa before.  Lexa doesn’t notice her, turning back to laugh at something that the girl said. 

 

Clarke is slightly stunned at the sight of her, something about not expecting to see her makes her even more beautiful.  Her stomach flips as she studies her, interested in the way she acts when she doesn’t know Clarke is looking.  Lexa’s black leggings and tank top make her swallow a little harder then she means to, watching as Lexa’s muscles ripple as she seats herself on the bench, still talking to the blonde girl.

 

“Y’know,” Bellamy says, clearing his throat, “If I didn’t know that was your girlfriend I would think you are a major perv right now.”

 

Clarke flushes and looks away, resuming her bicep curls while still watching Lexa out of the corner of her eye. 

 

Clarke realizes something when she sees Lexa lower herself back on the bench, the other girl standing behind her.  “Bell,” Clarke says, dropping her hand with the dumbbell at her side, “isn’t that the bar you were lifting?”

 

Bellamy turns, squinting at the bench, “yeah, but I mean she’ll probably have to take some off, that was kinda too much even for me,” he trails off as they watch Lexa grasp the bar, lifting it in a concise motion and beginning to press as the woman spots her. 

 

Clarke can’t seem to make a noise as she watches, fully overwhelmed and a little light headed.  Bellamy nods appreciatively, “Lexa is _fit._  I always figured she could beat me in a fight.”  He waves a hand in front of Clarke’s face, “Earth to Clarke.  Jesus, you are practically drooling.” Clarke shakes her head and shoves at him, missing because she doesn’t look away. 

 

“I should go say hi,” she mutters under her breath.  Bellamy watches her start to walk over and rolls his eyes. 

 

“Try to wait until you leave the gym before you jump her, okay Princess?” he calls after her, but she doesn’t even turn around.

 

Lexa is standing up from the bench when Clarke reaches her, and her eyes light up when she see her. 

 

“Clarke,” she says, “I didn’t know you were here.”

 

Clarke hangs back a few steps and knots her hands behind her back, “Yeah, Bellamy and I were hanging out.”

 

Lexa nods and gestures at the girl behind her, “Clarke, this is Anya.”

 

“It’s nice to meet you, Clarke,” the girl says stepping forward, “I’ve heard a lot about you from this one,” she swipes a hand at Lexa’s ponytail who ducks away with a little laugh that Clarke has never heard.  There is something comfortable in the way they interact, Lexa looks at her with admiration and respect, reaching over to bat at her hair in return. 

 

Clarke smiles at the two of them a little awkwardly and gestures back to Bellamy, “I shouldn’t leave him alone for too long,” she says, “he might do something stupid.”

 

Lexa nods and steps closer to her, pressing a kiss to her cheek adoringly.  “Wait for me before you head back the rooms?” she asks.

 

Clarke smiles sweetly, not quite sated by her kiss and eyeing Lexa’s arms again hungrily, “Of course,” she says.  She watches Lexa nod and sees her eyes dart down to look at her mouth, she leans in teasingly before rocking back on her feet, glancing behind Lexa to look at Anya.  “It was nice to meet you,” she says, turning away.  She can feel Lexa’s eyes on her all the way across the room and it makes her shiver. 

 

* * *

 

 

Clarke leans against the wall outside the gym, rubbing her arms as though that will save her from the cold.  Bellamy left a few minutes ago, and she is waiting for Lexa to finish but she didn’t want to hover. 

 

Lexa pushes out the gym door, lighting up at the sight of her.  “Sorry,” she says moving to where Clarke stands and pulling her into a hug, “I didn’t mean to take so long but some guy asked me how to work the elliptical.” She runs her hands up and down Clarke’s back before pulling away.  “I made Anya stay to show him.”

 

“Why?” Clarke asks, already missing the warmth of the hug.

 

“I told him my girlfriend was waiting for me outside.”

 

“Oh yeah?” Clarke asks, leaning in closer. 

 

“Yeah,” Lexa says

 

And then she is kissing her like she had wanted her to do in the gym, all push and pull, wandering hands snagging in her clothes to pull her tighter against her.  Clarke rolls her hips against Lexa and sucks at her bottom lip. 

 

Lexa jars back, “Maybe we should head back to the rooms,” she says, hands still holding Clarke close, “I’ll even do some push ups for you.”

 

Clarke ducks her head and is sure her cheeks are red with embarrassment, “So you noticed that, huh?”

 

Lexa grins, flexing her arms that are wound around Clarke’s waist, “I think everyone noticed.”

 

Clarke groans and pulls away to grab Lexa’s hand and tug her along the path back their rooms, “You can’t really blame me,” she says, avoiding eye contact, “I didn’t know I was into athletic girls until about an hour ago.”

 

“Athletic girls, huh?” Lexa asks, smirking.

 

“Mostly just one,” Clarke says grinning, and then they are breaking into a jog, still holding hands as they rush back to Lexa’s room.

 

Clarke doesn’t notice the cold at all.   

 

6\.  

Clarke takes another sip of her coffee before setting it back down on the table, careful to keep her movements slow so she doesn’t disturb Lexa.  They came to the campus coffee shop to study, in an attempt to free themselves of the distraction that an empty room with a bed can provide. 

 

Clarke turns a page in her textbook, glancing over as Lexa moves against her shoulder.  She think she might have woken her, but she is just nuzzling further into the crook of her neck, breathing soft and hands tangled in the hem of Clarke’s shirt just under the table’s edge. 

 

Lexa has been exhausted all day, staying up too late the night before to write a paper, and subsisting on nothing but coffee and donuts.  But she crashed as soon as they got to the café, slumped on Clarke, relaxing against the warmth of her and lulled by the soft music that is playing through the speakers. 

 

Clarke knows she should wake her, sleeping in public places probably isn’t something Lexa would want herself doing if she was conscious enough to know better.  But she is so cute, cheek mashed against the soft fabric of Clarke’s shirt, lips pouted in sleep. Clarke strokes a hand over Lexa’s thigh and she lets out this little sleepy sigh that has Clarke trying not to laugh. 

 

She doesn’t notice the barista’s approach until she is standing by their table, taking Clarke’s empty plate and looking at them strangely. 

 

“Can I get you anything else?” she asks, softly as to not wake Lexa. 

 

Clarke smiles at her for making the effort and shakes her head, “We are good, thank you though.” 

 

The woman starts to walk away, and then turns back suddenly, pulling at that strings of her apron.  “I just have to say,” she starts, meeting Clarke’s expectant gaze, “that you and your girlfriend are really cute together.” 

 

Clarke grins and feels herself flush as Lexa chooses this moment to burrow farther into her.  “Thank you,” she says, “I’m really lucky.”

 

The barista smiles and ducks her head before walking back behind the counter. 

 

Clarke moves her head slightly so she can press a kiss against the top of Lexa’s head.  “You are such a dork,” she whispers to the sleeping girl, but when she turns back to her text book she is still smiling. 


End file.
